


Keeping Time

by Lise



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Not Canon Compliant, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Protective Siblings, Thor Is a Good Bro, Thor just wants to know that Loki is okay, Worry, it's stressful having a supervillain for a brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-11-07
Packaged: 2018-04-30 11:35:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5162432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor keeps a mental count of the days since he last saw Loki. Just in case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keeping Time

**Author's Note:**

> This was a really fun one to write, when I wrote it, way back in the day. Because it's fun to think about what it must be like for Thor, never quite knowing that his brother is safe, only ever seeing him in the context of strife, trying to deal with centuries of loyalty and protective instinct while also the need to keep everyone else safe from what Loki might do. I like writing Thor balancing between what he feels are his responsibilities, because Thor has a pretty intense sense of responsibility (especially post- _Thor_ ). 
> 
> Anyway. That's enough babbling about a thing I posted on Tumblr months ago. 
> 
> Thank y'all for reading.

Thor kept a calendar of his own. 

It was not for the various events and appearances required of the Avengers, or the schedule on which he periodically returned to Asgard to see how his friends and father fared. It was not one he wrote down, nor one he shared with anyone. 

It was a tally of days only within the security of his own mind, told to no one. At the moment, it was set to forty-seven, and Thor was beginning to feel the first specters of fear. It was not such a long time, in the scheme of things, but it was longer than sometimes and that was enough. Forty-seven days since there was so much as a whisper of mischief from Loki.

Thor did not mention his concern to his teammates, or even to Jane. He wished that he believed there would be any use in contacting Heimdall, but he knew better than that.

So it was with a sigh of relief that on the forty-eighth day Thor received a summons from the Avengers. “It’s your brother,” Clint Barton said, sounding profoundly displeased, “again. Any idea what he’d be looking for at the Museum of Natural History?” Thor was glad that his friend could not see his smile.

“None,” he said. “I am sorry. I will be on my way in a moment to assist you.”

When Thor arrived to help foil Loki’s latest scheme, his brother flung knives and insults in equal measure. Thor tried to keep both focused on himself, more durable than the others save Dr. Banner, and also for the relief of seeing Loki whole and hale, if not well.

“It must please you,” Loki hissed, “to surround yourself with those so much less than you are. Does it make you feel  _great_ and  _magnanimous_ to grace them with your presence, oh  _Mighty_ Thor?”

Thor did not bother to answer and Loki’s face twisted, but whatever he’d meant to say was cut off when he had to dodge a blast from Stark’s repulsors. “Stop talking, seriously,” Stark said, mechanical voice harsh. “Yeah, Thor’s awesome. Too bad no one’s saying the same about you.”

Loki wheeled on Stark with a snarl, but by the way his eyes flicked Thor knew he could sense the trap starting to close and indeed he vanished a moment later. Thor rolled his shoulders and wandered over to check on Barton and Romanov.

“Like a bad penny,” Stark muttered, trailing after him. “I’m so sorry, Thor. You know what they say about not being able to pick your family…”

Thor shook his head, half smiling. “It is fine, my friend.”

“It’s really not,” Stark objected. “You deserve better.”

“Perhaps,” Thor said with a shrug, “but I think that I can decide for myself what I deserve.” He smiled, hoping to take the sting out of his words. “Whatever else he is, Loki remains my brother.”

And it was with relief that he set his mental count of days back to zero.

* * *

Loki did not appear at regular intervals, but he did seem unable to stay away from Midgard, a fact for which Thor was honestly grateful. The longest count of days between Loki’s attacks had been fifty, and the shortest only five. Somewhere in that range Thor considered relatively normal, though as the count drew closer to fifty in his mind invariably Thor found himself restless, fretting and anxious, hovering over whoever was unlucky enough to be in his presence and preoccupied with a mixture of anticipation and concern.

He knew, rationally, that it was unreasonable. Loki had more than proven his capability, all too often against Thor or his friends, and certainly his brother had no interest in Thor’s concern. Just the same, however, Thor knew that Loki had enemies, some of whom were undoubtedly less benevolent than Thor’s companions, and the protective instinct of centuries was difficult to override. While he might not put much effort into convincing Loki to return any longer, it was still an undeniable relief to at least know that he still lived. And Loki might be capable, but he was also reckless, and the madness that had taken him seemed to have consumed more than a small portion of his reason and care.

Knowing it was not reasonable did not change his feelings or his mind, only made it so that Thor did not share either with anyone else. Which was well enough – Thor might not enjoy it, but he was capable of keeping his own counsel on this. It was, after all, his burden to bear.

* * *

After the incident at the museum, Loki reappeared once more after a span of ten days in Belgium, and then again after five, back in New York. Neither time was the attack particularly serious or difficult to deal with, and after the second Thor accepted Tony Stark’s invitation to stay at his residence for a few days with the others. “It’ll be great,” Tony promised fervently. “Like a slumber party. Do you have slumber parties on Asgard?”

“Not by that name,” Thor said, resisting the urge to smile, “but I take your meaning, and would be pleased to spend some time with my friends under one roof.”

Jane was at a conference, but Thor called her on his Midgardian device nonetheless to tell her that he would not be returning to London. “How long are you planning to stay?” She asked. Thor considered.

“Perhaps a week,” he said. “It will depend, I suppose. But if you wish me to return home…”

“No, no,” Jane said. She sounded distracted, and Thor resisted the urge to smile, picturing her running her fingers through her hair. “It’s fine, just keep me updated on your plans. Sorry, Thor, I’ve gotta go but…”

“I know,” Thor said fondly. “Go on. We will speak later.”

It was good to be among friends. They did not carouse as his companions on Asgard did, not so boisterous nor so energetic, but their company was nonetheless enjoyable and in some ways it was a relief not to half expect a battle to break out. One week turned into ten days, and then they were asked to help deal with Doom (or what Doom claimed were rogue Doombots), and before Thor knew it he was back in London crashing into bed in a state of exhaustion.

It was only when he woke after nearly seventeen hours (“you were snoring the whole time, I swear,” Jane told him) when Thor realized that when he’d been distracted the count of his mental calendar had crept up to nineteen days.

It was not so many days, really. Short, in the scheme of things. Nonetheless, realizing it consciously Thor felt a little chill down his spine, a sense that something was wrong.

He pushed it aside. Nineteen days was not so long. In Asgard, Loki had gone on unannounced journeys for far longer.

There was no reason to worry yet.

* * *

The days rolled by and Thor’s count ticked upward. Twenty-five, thirty, thirty-five. It was not as though he did not have plenty to do – more than enough, to be truthful – but nonetheless the number nagged at the back of his mind, itching at him, and the larger it got the more distracting it became. Every time he was summoned he hoped it would be because of Loki, but it never was.

Perhaps, he told himself, Loki had merely become bored of Midgard and moved on. That was not precisely comforting, as it likely only meant Loki was working his mischief elsewhere, but perhaps it was better? (But it was not, because then Thor could not see him, could not know he was well even if it was at the cost of a knife in his kidneys.)

“Something bothering you, Thor?”

He realized belatedly that his thoughts had wandered and he had forgotten to mind the game he was meant to be playing with Clint Barton and Steve Rogers. He glanced at his cards, hurried. “Nay,” he said. “Nothing of import.”

Steve frowned at him, looking suspicious, but Thor kept his expression blank and pleasant. Clint did not seem fooled.

“It’s Loki, isn’t it,” he said, setting down his cards and looking resigned. Thor did not answer, but his friend grimaced. “Who am I kidding. It’s usually Loki who puts that look on your face.”

Thor considered his words carefully. “It concerns me what Loki may be planning,” he said. “You – neither of you have heard anything, I assume?”

Clint shook his head. “No,” Steve said, frowning a bit more. “He does this sometimes, though, right? And there doesn’t seem to be any kind of…correlation, necessarily.”

“No,” Thor had to admit. “It does not seem so.”

Clint pursed his lips. “You’re worried about the bastard, aren’t you,” he said, not quite flatly. Thor kept his features still as he could.

“Loki remains my brother,” he said. Clint snorted.

“So you keep saying,” he said, “but Thor, you’ve gotta admit it seems a little masochistic of you.”

Thor could feel his expression going stony. “That is my concern.”

“All right, all right,” Steve said, his voice placating. “Let’s get back to the game.”

“He’s just going to keep hurting you,” Clint said, picking up his cards and looking at them instead of Thor. “You know that, don’t you?”

Thor did not reply.

* * *

Forty seven days. There were three more days until it had been the same length of time as the longest duration Loki had disappeared. Thor was restless and struggled to stay still.

Loki might be dead somewhere. He might be being held captive and tortured, he might be suffering, but most of all he might be  _dead_ and Thor would not know, could not know. He could ask Heimdall, perhaps, but Thor did not know if Loki’s spell of keeping himself hidden would last if he perished, and Loki had proven before that he knew and had been to places Heimdall could not see.

“Thor,” Steve said, sidling up next to him after another fight. Perhaps Thor had been a bit too rough, but the unease and frustration seething inside of him had needed an outlet, and these folk who called themselves the  _Wrecking Crew_ were villains. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I am,” Thor said. Steve made a noise of distinct doubt.

“Let me rephrase that,” he said. “Is there something I can help with?”

“No,” Thor said, as simply as his first response. “I do not think there is.”

Steve hesitated. “Are you…is this still about Loki?”

Thor felt his hand clench around Mjolnir’s haft. “I do not wish to argue with you, Captain Rogers.”

“I’m not going to argue with you,” Steve said quickly. “It’s just…you’re clearly a little tense, and I’m…we’re…worried about you.”

Thor turned to look at Steve, knowing his face was stormy. “I recognize that you may not understand it-”

“I  _do,_ ” Steve objected, and then shook his head. “All right, maybe not exactly, but I understand that you’re worried. It’s still…”

“This is the only way I have to see my brother,” Thor interrupted. “When I must fight him. I have not seen him in forty-seven days. Is it so surprising that I would be a bit…on edge?”

Steve exhaled, and Tony Stark broke in. “Worried little brother’s not doing the laundry and feeding himself?” He asked. “Come on, Thor. Loki’s a grown up supervillain. He can take care of himself.”

Thor wanted to growl. He restrained himself. “No,” he said shortly, “He really can not.”

* * *

Fifty two days and Thor went to Asgard to ask Heimdall if he had seen Loki. Heimdall gave him a long stare that was not exactly  _annoyed_ but not quite pleased either, and said simply that no, he had not. Not for some time, in fact.

Thor returned to Midgard in a high temper, half tempted to try screaming  _Loki’s_ name at the sky just to see if he answered.

“Maybe you should put up ‘have you seen our supervillain’ posters,” Tony said, and Thor gritted his teeth and said nothing though there was a rumble of thunder outside. Jane was kinder, but she did not quite seem to understand his urgency.

“When Loki was young he would lock himself in his room for days and forget to eat,” Thor told her. “And then he did not have enemies among three Realms at least!”

“Mmm,” Jane said, a pen in her mouth and poring over a printout of numbers. Thor gave up and went for a walk. Rain followed him, and while a few people still approached him to greet him or ask for his signature (a human custom, Thor had gathered, for celebrities) most kept their distance.

Fifty two days and no sign of Loki. Thor wondered how he  _was_ feeding himself. How he was occupying his time. Loki bored so easily.

_He could be dead,_ the poisonous thought crept into Thor’s mind again. His mind conjured up the image of it, gruesome and bloody, Loki’s eyes dull and staring and-

Thunder rippled overhead, loud enough to make a few mortals nearby jump. He wondered if Loki knew, somehow, how this bothered him. If this was a deliberate torment, like when Loki had hidden from him as a child to see Thor run through the palace calling his name.

“If this is a jest, brother,” he muttered, “it is a poor one.”

Next time they fought, Thor told himself (and there  _would_ be a next time), he would plant Mjolnir on his brother’s chest and yell at him for making him worry.

* * *

Sixty-nine days and it had not stopped raining in London for seven when Thor got a call from Natasha.

“Thor? Need a little help here,” Natasha said, and after a moment added, “it’s your brother.”

Thor went. Loki had appeared in Germany (again) and Thor reached him before the others, slamming into the ground. Loki was wearing casual clothing, not his armor, though as he turned it shimmered into being on his body. His teeth were bared and his face was tight and angry, but Thor still felt a flood of relief that loosened every muscle in his body.

He looked thin, Thor thought. Not, strictly speaking, well. But he was alive, and when he flung a dagger at Thor’s face it was with perfect aim.

“Loki,” he said, and it came out more an expression of relief than anything else.

“Thor,” Loki said savagely. “Always arriving in the nick of time, aren’t you. To stop your  _wicked_ brother.”

Thor could not keep a smile from his face. Raising Mjolnir, he set his mental count back to zero.


End file.
